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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174064">sorrow that befalls the darling.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tukiaa/pseuds/tukiaa'>tukiaa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Banana Fish (Anime &amp; Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Relationships, Emotional, Extended Metaphors, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Open to Interpretation, Sad and Sweet, Self-Reflection, just interpret this as you will, kind of, there's a metaphor in this, this idea literally came from a conversation i had with an AI</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:28:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tukiaa/pseuds/tukiaa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>➸ their first snow has fallen, and ash can't help but think.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sorrow that befalls the darling.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>➸ i'm going along with the anime timeline, so this takes place in the 2010s instead of the 1980s</p><p>➸ trigger warning!!! there's a tiny bit of referenced sexual assault, so please be wary if that kind of content sets you off.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beauty is a phantom.</p><p>It lingers in crevices, small little corners that snuggle themselves in a sea of objective emptiness. Other times, it's out in the open, glissading and swaying and curving fluidly with the wind that sings its entrancing tune for all of the world to bear witness. It simply exists, an object of desire, of pleasure, of pure and raw emotion and tragedy. It's tangible, swirling over fingertips and tickling eyelashes while it coaxes with its molasses sweet promises. It is simply everything and nothing at once, so elusive and permanent, so gorgeously deceptive the average human can't help but grieve in silent desire.</p><p>"Ash! Come look outside, it's snowing!"</p><p>I've always been told I was beautiful. </p><p>Ugly grunts and whispers that praised my face and my body. Day in, day out. Glorious little compliments I received like air that came from the filthiest of mouths. <em>Is this what it means to be beautiful?</em> I asked myself all those years ago. Pretty words from grimy men, tainting its meaning entirely — like mud-stained hands on innocent white walls. Beautiful. Beautiful is a word I thought I'd never want to hear again.</p><p>But I don't think it sounds so bad when Eiji says it.</p>
<h2 class="header2">☼☼☼</h2><p>We'd met in the summer, the both of us. With the time we whiled away and dedicated towards the other, there opened not a second of possibility to stop and ache and pine for something other than what existed in the present moment. We simply took what we were given, and did not realize until the moment found itself beside us how marvelous it was and how fascinating was the fact that not once did we vainly go in search for it. Such an example is the first snow of New York in 2017. That'd always been what the city was best known for. Photos upon photos upon photos chalked up every year that capture the insomniac city draped over with that comfortingly icy blanket of white. The people that trudge on in the thick covering, paying no mind to the bigger picture and seemingly enveloping themselves once more in their lives. A passenger in a day of the life of a whirling, whisking city, if you will. </p><p>What they don't tell you about those pictures, however, is how quickly that seemingly large blanket is ripped apart. Just as all things go in New York City, the snow falls victim to the evasiveness of the five boroughs, and is either plowed through or blackened in a matter of hours. That's why it's important for some of us to wake up early and look outside to see the snow still falling quietly onto the layering sheets, as it's a sight only those of us who stop in the blur of life and routine value, for we realize the tragic non-permanence of it all. </p><p>"Don't you think you should at least put on a coat?"</p><p>Eiji's eyes peer up at me, round and full and peacefully worrisome. He has a thick coat that wraps around him nicely, so much so that it makes me look severely underdressed with my shirt that stops just shy of my elbows. </p><p>"Why should I? I've been through colder." I look away, turning my cheek to Eiji before I walk in front of him to twist and pull at the doorknob in silent desperation that I'll avoid his inevitable nagging. Fortunately for me, what followed was a simple harrumph and a pair of footsteps that trail behind me as I step into the winter.</p><p>What lays outside of our little obscure apartment is nothing short of what you'd think were only possible in movies. At my feet, snow has already begun to touch and melt my shoes, and the rest grovels around in small heaps that sprinkle the space in front of the doorway. Beyond, however, a thick and evened out sheet of white rolls and expands for what looks like miles. It covers and glistens without a sun, vanishing the streets, the edges of frosted windows and balustrades that cascade down the identical side-by-side apartments. The city is large, but it just as easily withers like an aging rose under the bitter cold. The winter weeps its snowflakes silently, slowly but surely sweeping New York in its solemn clutches, a force greater than Eiji and me that plainly says, "fine, then. You can watch."</p><p>Another revelation suddenly befalls me.</p><p>The revelation that sometimes I really need to keep my ego in check because it's actually freezing out here. </p><p>A gust of wind blows past my body and jabs tiny needles into my forearm, pinching and bruising my pride with the iciness of the air. I certainly can't shudder or show how the sudden drop in temperature is getting to me, lest Eiji notices and never lets me hear the end of it. I almost shake at the thought of his badgering voice. However, luckily for me, it seems he's too preoccupied with something else to give the time of day. </p><p>My gaze, which once languidly roamed the scenery in dazed amusement, now zeroes in on a certain dark-haired figure, crouched over and looking upon the unprovoked overlay of snow like it's the prettiest thing to have ever graced this planet.  His eyes gloss over and admire, welcoming the cold like an old friend as he drags his finger along the white, allowing it to move in a free-willed straight line. I can't help but observe as a mere presence. The winter which clawed at me from the beginning and bared its fangs now settles and allows Eiji into its story, adorning his hunched body with small light specks that create entire constellations on his back. </p><p>A knot slowly wraps itself and binds tightly in my chest. It's suffocating, it strips me of my breath until all I can do is stare. Eiji's pitch black hair falls in front of his face, covering most of it but leaving his eyes to peek out of the strands. They glimmer lowly in the absence of the sun just as the snow does, admiring and cooing with a simple, prolonged glance. He plays around with the powdery substance between his fingertips, giving for far less than he takes as he offers to the wintertide his undivided attention and admiration for just a bit of its time. He did not pry it out of its hands, he did not demand the moon and the stars and the life that thrived in it itself. He walked up to it and asked and comforted and that was all that was necessary.</p><p>"It's really pretty, Ash!" I snap myself out of my near-stupor to see Eiji standing up and walking over to me with a small lump of snow on his gloved hand. </p><p>"Enjoy it while it lasts. Soon the streets will be plowed and the snow will get dark with dust." </p><p>"Seriously..why do you always have to be so negative?" He pouts and looks up at me, eyebrows furrowed sourly for just a moment before a glint passes over his eyes. It's mischievous. I don't like it."Say, Ash," a smile stretches back on his lips, "it's pretty cold out here."</p><p>"Cold? I hadn't noticed," a breeze digs itself under my sleeve, making my hairs stand on end and betraying my words. </p><p>"Really?" Eiji feigns surprise. "Americans sure are resilient." I struggle to keep my composure as I begin to take the temperature (or lack thereof) into account more and more, the scene that once seemed like something out of a book now shatters as the winter growls and lashes out at me. It becomes even harder when, in just a matter of seconds, I feel a searingly frigid chunk slide down my chest and sit at my lower abdomen, where my shirt was tucked into my jeans. </p><p>"Eiji...!" He lets out a howl of laughter as he watches me flail around in panic, arms waving with no destination before they finally gain enough sense to tear my shirt away from under my waistband. The snow slides to the ground with a soft thud.</p><p>Relief washes for a second before the world breaks into peals of joy with Eiji and allows a rush of wind run up my stomach. A yell erupts from me, and another fit of cackles from Eiji. I swear between breaths as I curse the Japanese for being so damn malevolent. The giggling mess in front of me isn't helping his case either, and I say something to him about him being a devil before I take a sharp inhale through my teeth from the cold.</p><p>"You should have seen the look on your face! I've never heard someone scream in such a high-pitched voice."</p><p>"Oh, you're just exaggerating!" I can feel my integrity crumble.</p><p>"It's not my fault you're so stubborn." I've never wanted to wipe a smile off of someone's face so much in my life.</p><p>"Huh, really?" Without a second thought, I scoop up a handful of snow from the floor and lob it at Eiji, landing it directly on top of his hair.</p><p>"Why, you..!"</p><p>Winter in New York City is fleeting. It's furious and it's quick, reflecting the city's essence to a T. That's how it's always been, hasn't it?  Every year, when the morn was beginning its ascendence once more, as it'd always done, I'd wake up with it. I'd wake up with it and I'd make my way to the window and open it, allowing the frost to growl at me and enter the room. It pricked and pierced, and I could do nothing but allow it to perforate me. The snowflakes which softly floated down were formidable to me, and I often found myself bowing down to it in my silent gazing. A long time ago, when I was just 8 and admiring the white daybreak with lucid eyes, I let something slip to my father.</p><p><em>"It's angry."</em> That's all. Just two simple words. It's angry. But just what was it angry at? I never touched upon that moment until now. </p><p>Winter is wounded. Winter is crying out. Winter racks in sobs with rage. Winter roars at New York for it destroyed its elegance, and for that it was hurt in more ways than one.</p><p>Winter is lonely.</p><p>I realize that as I find my body sprawled over the layer of snow, chest heaving up and down as I turn my head to find Eiji in the same position as me. We're tired, our breaths grow heavy and become cloudy. Eiji pants with such weight, but it's quickly glossed over with giggles and bursts of laughter. They come out ragged, but brim themselves in definitive exhilaration and just absolute <em>glee</em>. The snow pools around him, acknowledging his presence and continuing its formation around him, almost as if it were hugging him. A snowflake rests itself on his eyelash.</p><p>"Even with snow, your aim is as sharp as ever."</p><p>The winter is gorgeous. Its snow is soft to the touch, and as I ball my hand into a fist I feel the snowflakes slip through my grip and melt into oblivion. It's pretty, it's so pretty. As you lay yourself down on it, it welcomes you in its embrace and you feel its lament slow. Caressing you for just a few moments, before you feel the grief. Winter is gorgeous, it's glorious to even look at, yes. But once you get ahead of yourself, and act upon your greedy desires to wish for nothing more than to be embosomed by it forever, you soon realize such an idea only exists in dreams. Soon, it will burn. It will burn and numb and you will have to go back inside and simply watch from your window again. Arresting and beguiling and every word that could describe its charm, and so terribly painful and agonizing. </p><p>Winter is cursed with grace and isolation. It extends its hand and reaches out for another to take it. Once you do, however, it sears your grasp with its frost and impales you with its cold, and then it disappears through your fingers that worked so hard to hold on and it's alone again. It tries again and again, and again and again it fails. Winter wails its requiem, and can do nothing more but act in fury because of its eternal misfortune.</p><p>"Eiji."</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p> </p><p>And for that, it will continue to plea. Despite it all,</p><p> </p><p>"The winter, it's really beautiful."</p><p>"Yeah," he turns over and props himself up on his elbow to stare into my eyes, "it's beautiful."</p><p> </p><p>Winter hopes for salvation.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>➸ take a shot for every time i wrote "winter"</p></blockquote></div></div>
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